Last day on Earth
by SarahLou
Summary: How would each of the RENTers spend their last day on Earth? This is my take on what would happen. FINISHED!
1. Prologue

Authors note: This is a morbid thought, but how do you think each of the RENTers died? What do you think they did on their last day of life? Well…this is my take on what would happen. The idea is a little romanticist but whatever. Some of them are sad and others are actually kind of happy. Here goes…

Disclaimer: Not mine. All Jonathon's.

**Prologue…**

Three punks were walking down the street, two guys and a girl. One of the guys had a Mohawk and a leather jacket. The other had spikey blonde hair and earrings; he was going for that whole Billy Idol look. The girl had bright pink hair and was dressed, in a matter of words, like a hooker. They were the kind of kids that had inhabited Alphabet City for quite some time now. A lot of the buildings were abandoned. There was even talk about an industrial loft on the corner of 11th street and Avenue B that was haunted.

"Chuck, I dare you to go in there." The kid with the Mohawk said to the Billy Idol wannabe.

"No way Brian, you go."

"I'll do it." The pink haired girl said as they climbed the steps to the very top of the building. The door to the loft was opened already when they got there. As the three kids walked inside this is what they saw: A huge leather coat and a bottle of Stoli next to it. A small bottle of blue nail polish, which some spilled on the floor. Across the room on top of a table there were a few assorted items: a candle, a guitar with broken strings and a needle. On the walls there were 'Cyber arts Eviction Notices' and a poster for a protest. Under the poster there was a cowbell. In the very middle of the room stood a very old looking video camera, which was hooked up to a projector.

"There's a note." Chuck said.

"Well read it." Becky, the girl with pink hair replied.

"_To whom it may concern,_

_By the time you read this I will be long gone. Infact, I'll probably be dead. Nobody will remember I was alive and there's nobody to pass on the legacy of me and my friends. All of mywhom had lives that were cut short. Two died from AIDS, one of them got mugged, one got shot, another died in a car crash, one killed himself and one died of a broken heart. Except me, I kept on living even after all of my friends have died. I don't find death to be a scary thing, why should I? I'm alone on this earth and I'll be going to where people love and cherish me. So here, in this loft, which once was my home, I'm leaving the memories of all my friends. Hopefully, somehow, our lives will be remembered._

_Mark Cohen_

_(p.s. Just press play.)_

Chuck turned on the projector. First there were a slew of images of what seemed to be a group of friends. All of them were happy and seemed to be partying on a nonstop basis. The kids noticed a man that looked suspiciously like a woman, a young Latino girl, two women who were obviously in love, a sad guitarist, a black man smoking marijuana and another who looked like he was always pissed off. And finally a rare shot of a skinny guy with glasses. The end of the reel showed the man who was dressed like a woman, except he was a man again. He was basking in some sort of light, like an angel.

"I wonder who these people are." Chuck said.

Another image popped onto the screen. It was the same Latino girl but she looked disgustingly ill and pale. The sun was on her face and made her look somewhat like a ghost. She wastalking into the camera.After that the screen turned black for a minute and then another one showed up. It was the same sad guitarist playing a song. He didn't look too well either. He was oblivious to whoever was taping him.After that there was what seemed to be a wedding celebration. The two women were getting married. Lastly there were two bits from the news. The first one was saying how somebody named Benny had shot himself in the head. The last one talked about a mugging happening just around the corner from the loft. Then the screen went black.

"I wonder what happened to them."

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a/n: What do you think? Read and review please! It'll only make me a better writer! 


	2. Soul mates

Disclaimer: I wish it were mine…but it's not.

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Angel hated living in a hospital. It was colorless, just like her life was at the moment. She was immobile and felt like shit. She was sure she didn't look too good either.Trying to keep a good attitude while you're in a hospital is like keeping ice solid in Hell. The only thing that was keeping her alive was her friends and that was slowly diminishing. It broke her heart to see how her friends were losing each other over silly things. 

Roger thought Mimi was cheating with Benny

Mimi thought Roger was being jealous, and she was slowly dying from her heroin addiction.

Maureen was cheating on Joanne

Joanne was giving up on Maureen

Mark was detaching himself from everything

It was almost too much to bear. Angel couldn't handle seeing how everybody was so depressed all the time. It was like when they came to see them they were shooting daggers across the room. The last thing Angel wanted was to see her friends sad. She felt like her presence was useless in the group and that nobody needed her anymore.

Well nobody except Collins that is. Angel knew she was breaking Collins heart into a million pieces when she started showing serious signs of getting ill. Collins was the first person to actually love Angel for who she was and not for somebody who was "gay" or a "transvestite" or a "street musician" but as a person, with a heart and a soul. Angel felt lucky to have Collins but was immensely sad that she only got to be with him for less than a year. Collins was Angel's soul mate, and she was losing him already. Soul mates were supposed to grow old together and build families.

"Hey, Collins?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you ever…regret it?"

"Regret what?"

"Like, being with me?"

"Not for one second, why?"

"Well, I was just thinking, you're kind of like… my—my soul mate, and most soul mates are supposed to get old and have children together and retire to somewhere like Santa Fe and sit on rockers… Well we'll never be able to do that, I mean do you think that we would still count? Because we've only been together for 10 months but it feels like so much longer. It's not fair, our soul mate experience isn't going to be a full one because we don't get to do all that stuff."

"Well, I think that soul mates come in different shapes and sizes. For instance, Roger and Mimi are soul mates, but they may never realize it. Even though they don't realize they're soul mates they are. Of course, if Roger could just get over his jealousy and Mimi could give up her vices then they would be perfect. Or, at least, as perfect as time allows them to be. Mark believes, in vain, that Maureen is his soul mate, and she thinks that Joanne is hers. Maureen is completely oblivious that Mark is in love with her and Joanne thinks that Maureen is still in love with Mark. No soul mate relationship is perfect, but it can still be beautiful, just like you. I believe that in a sense, me, you, Roger, Mimi, Maureen, Joanne and even sometimes Benny were soul mates. We all love each other sometimes and we hate each other sometimes too, but in the end we still care for one another, and that unconditional love is what makes a soul mate."

"You really think so?" Angel asked.

"I know so." Collins replied, trying to convince himself that now what he said had to be true more than ever.

"So, even after I die, will you consider me your soul mate?"

"Of course I will, nobody can replace you, ever."

"I think—I think I can die happy now. Will you just do a few things for me?"

"Anything."

"Okay, well first, give my platform shoes and sparkley blue nailpolish to Mimi. Tell her I love her and that if she needs anything I'll be listening. I'll be waiting for her when it's time for her to go, and I'll be pushing her back towards reality when it isn't."

"Okay."

"Also, tell Mark that he needs to get a girlfriend and that the black and white scarf isn't flattering. But tell him that I love him and that he's the cutest Jewish boy I've ever met. Make sure he starts letting people know what he's feeling and that hiding behind his camera for the rest of his life will do no good. Tell Roger that he needs to let Mimi be herself and that the best way to take care of her is to love her for her all of her flaws, and if he ever hurts her I'll make sure his ass gets kicked. But tell him that I believe he can write his song and that if he puts his mind to it, then he can really find meaning in life."

"Alright."

"Make sure Benny doesn't pull another stunt like he did on New Years eve. He has some good inside him, he just needs to find it. Apologize to him for me for killing his ugly dog. Oh, and make sure Maureen knows what a beautiful and wonderful person she is, and that I hope she creates some of the best anarchy that New York has ever seen. Let Joanne know that I respect her so much and think that she's an amazing person. She helped everybody out when they deserved it least and is the only person I know who can handle a person like Maureen, so she deserves props for that. I love all of you guys so much, I feel so lucky that we were all friends and just want everything to be okay."

"It will be, i promise." Collins said, the tears starting to flow.

"I love you, and now it's time for me to go."

Angel closed her eyes and was gone. Collins wrapped his arms around him like he would never let her go.

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Authors note: I hope I did okay; I'm not very good at slash-ey relationships so if it seemed a little…unnatural then blame it on me. Next chapter is Mimi's. Review please! It's only going to make me a better writer! 


	3. Holding her own

Authors note: I hope everybody likes it so far. Well, I mean, as much as you can considering what this fic is about. Anyway, read and review please! it keeps me writing!

disclaimer: most definitely not characters.

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Mimi Marquez was always known as somebody who could hold their own. She found it annoying when she was babied as a little girl and hated it when her mom would try to brush her hair or cut her food. The same went for when she got older; she hated it when her boyfriends would try to protect her from the "big, bad streets of New York." It was absurd. So when Mimi found out she had AIDS she didn't really want to tell anybody because she knew what was going to happen. However, she had accepted the fact that she had it and after a year of trying to push it aside she accepted it. But when she started losing her grip on life she wanted nobody to know.

Mimi knew she was going when she barely passed the 100 pound mark on the scale. She may have been a tiny girl but she had never been _that _tiny. When shegot to90 poundsstarted losing her hair she started to get worried.

"Mimi, you haven't exactly had a good lifestyle, now your life is going to be cut short because the decisions you made in the past with heroin. Your T-cells are diminishing." Her doctor said.

She shouldn't have been shocked at hearing the words. Before she cared about which direction her life was going in she wouldn't had been so hurt by hearing that she was going to die soon. But now, she had a reason. She had Roger. She had given up heroin for him and he had been her support for the past year and a half. How was she going to tell him that she could go at any minute?

* * *

"Mimi, are you okay? You look terrible. You should lie down." Roger would say, she knew he was concerned but it was getting annoying. 

"I'm fine!" She would answer, exasperated and annoyed, even though everybody could tell she wasn't fine. The more she pushed people away, the tighter the grip they seemed to want to have on her.

"Mimi, sweetie, you don't have to do the dishes, really, I can do it!" Maureen would often say when she caught Mimi doing household chores.

Finally Mimi just gave up on trying to be independent, even if it maddened her more than anything. Being treated like she was a baby was not something Mimi enjoyed.

* * *

Mimi could tell it was her last day. She had died once before, after all. The sun was out, it was perfect weather. She was home alone at the loft. They had gone out to breakfast and didn't want to wake her. She was sleeping a lot more lately so they probably expected her to not wake until it was 1 or 2. Her skin was starting to look gray and musty. Her face was thin and looked like it was drowning in her black, wavy hair. She looked more like a 12 year old than a 21 year old. She went into the kitchen for a bowl of cap'n crunch. She wasn't going to be able to keep it down, but that didn't really matter. After breakfast she found her favorite pair of blue leather pants and leopard print tank-top. It felt good to get out of Roger's old t-shirt even though the pants were hideously big on her. After getting dressed she painted her nails blue and put glitter on. She looked in the mirror. 

"Fabulous." She said brightly, even though she looked like she was already dead...

After getting dressed she walked around the empty loft. It was a mess. Roger's guitar was on the counter and Collins' papers that needed to be graded were on the couch and floor. There was food everywhere and dust was like the fifth roommate. Finally, Mimi saw Mark's camera, set up in the corner by the window. She sat on the windowsill and turned it on.

"Hola. Well, this may seem cheesy but I just thought there should be some sort of memoir of me before I go. Believe me I didn't think that today was going to be the day that I was going to die, but you know how there are those things in life that you can just tell are going to happen, without even having to think about it? Like deciding what cereal you're going to eat or whether or not to say yes when that guy asks you to marry him? I guess today I woke up and found that I was having one of those moments. I'm not even sad that it was today, I mean look at the weather. It's great. If I were to die on, say, a rainy day, then I guess that would be okay, but that's just so common. And common is something I've never aspired to be. I've always liked the essence of surprise anyway. Do you like my outfit? It's one of my favorites. I thought 'well, if i'm going to die, then i may as well die in style!"Anyway, down to business. All of you guys probably think that I never lived a 'full-life'. Well that's absolute crap, because I did. I had two lives: one of them I don't ever want to visit again and another that's going to be painfully hard for me to let go of.

The first life, which was heroin, really sucked, but, honestly, when I was high I felt like I wasn't living at all, and it was peaceful. It wasn't really a full life, but a half one and I was trapped by it. Does that even make sense? I never want to be around a needle again, which won't be too hard considering I have less than 24 hours to live. The second life, which is Roger, has consumed me body and soul, but in a good way, and I couldn't be happier. I feel sort of lucky that I got to have as much time with him as I did, because I would have been satisfied to just meet him and then die. But, God (and Angel)had other plans. And Roger, when you watch this, I really don't want you to cry because you're going to have to keep on living even after I go. You can't kill yourself or completely shut off from the world like you did with April. You've known for awhile that I wasn't going to live very long, so you can't act like this has taken you by surprise. I want you to keep on living. Who knows, maybe they'll even find a cure for AIDS and you'll be able to get married and have kids, of course, you have to name your daughter Mimi if you do. Finally, I want to say how grateful I am to have such beautiful, loving friends. Going through life without friends isn't really living at all, now is it? And even though I'm only 21, I feel like I've lived to be at least 60. Which is a good thing, believe me.

So when the rest of you have kids, make sure you tell them about me. It doesn't have to necessarily be in a good way, because I know I'm not a role-model or anything, but please try to keep my memory alive. Because after you guys die, nobody is going to remember I existed. I really hope this tape hasn't been bringing anybody down or anything because it's supposed to let you guys know that for once and all, I'm okay. I didn't want to die and have you guys think 'poor poor Mimi-chica.' Even when I'm on my last day of living I can still hold my own."

Mimi shut off the video camera, feeling quite satisfied with what she had done. After taking one last look at the loft she put on her coat and left. She went to Tompkins Square Park and sat for a long time. Thinking about her life and howhappy she was with it. She dozed off on the bench. When she woke up again, Angel was waiting for her.

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read/review please! 


	4. The Importance of an Alley

Authors note: I don't know about you guys, but I always had the idea that Collins was quite a bit older than the rest of the RENTers. So, that's why I made him 37-38. Also, Collin's demise is a little bit more unpredictable than Angel or Mimi's was. But, death isn't something you can really plan. My intent in this chapter wasn't to start a new plot and then leave it hanging with Collin's death. Thanks for the reviews guys it really keeps me inspired!

Disclaimer: never will be mine.

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This week was supposed to be a great day for Tom Collins. It was his 38th birthday tomorrow and his friends were throwing a party for him. He wasn't supposed to know about it, but he was a genius after all. The night before his party he was sitting in the loft, checking his NYU papers and trying not to focus on his drunken friends in the kitchen.

"Oh come on Collins it's not every day you turn 38!" Mark said, obviously sloshed.

"Yes, and tomorrow I will be drinking, trust me, but I think I'll enjoy my last night of 37 being sober." Collins said distractedly.

The truth was, Collins wasn't even really thinking about his student's papers or Mark and his drunken haze. Collins' mind was wandering, as it usually did, to Angel. His face lit up in a smile at just thinking of her. The light of his life. She was dead, of course, but it was as if her spirit was still in the loft. Collins could still smell her perfume, see her smile and feel her soft hands. She was everywhere.

After Angel's death, Collins had changed. Everybody understood, obviously, that he would be closed off for awhile. The same thing happened with Roger. But it was 6 years later and it was as if he was still mourning. He had quit working for a few years and was living off of the ATM. They thought he wasn't going to make it for awhile. Finally, last year, he got a renewed job at NYU and moved in again with Mark and Roger. Everybody could tell he was changed though.

Collins looked at his drunken friends in the kitchen playing scrabble and sighed. He really just wanted to be alone.

"Hey guys, I'm going to go for a walk, okay?" he said, not waiting for a reply.

The streets of New York were always something of a fascination to Collins. The people who walked down the street always had different styles, different faces and different places to be. It was a collage and Collins liked to dissect the parts of it. That was part of who he was, though: taking something big apart, looking at each of the pieces, and then making them go back together how he saw fit.

That was part of what made him and Angel fit together so perfectly. The fact that he noticed all of the small things and Angel noticed all the big things.

"Angel." He said quietly in the darkness.

"You've got to move on, honey." The Angel in his mind said.

"It's just too hard" Collins whispered.

He got up and headed for the Life Café. The best night of his life was spent at there. The night where him and his friends danced on tables without a care in the world. That night was so far away from where he was now. Nevertheless, a beer couldn't hurt.

On his way back from the café to the loft, Collins heard some guys yelling and somebody obviously being hit from a nearby alley. Not just any alley, but the one where Angel had found him. He ran down it until he saw four guys beating on a helpless figure on the ground. When they saw him coming they picked up whatever they could and ran.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked as the figure sat up against the wall. It was a girl of about 16 with blonde hair and blue eyes. She was shaking.

"I think so. They didn't really get a chance to beat me up, they were more interested in money" She answered as Collins picked up what was left of her belongings and put them in her purse for her. "Just some close minded losers."

The girl pulled off her wig.

"I'm Matt…but my friends call me Michelle" she said, smiling at Collins reaction.

"I'm Collins, Tom Collins." He said, shaking her hand. "Where do you live? I'll walk you home."

As Collins and Michelle made their way through the East Village and ended up talking the whole way home.

"You remind me of an old friend." Collins said reflectively as Michelle babbled about her life and what she wanted to be when she got older. Collins smiled inside when he saw that she was wearing bright blue nailpolish.Abouta half hourlater they reached a dark and dank building.

"Well…this is where I live. Thanks for walking me home, Tom. You're like an Angel in disguise!" Michelle said as she left to walk up the stairs to her apartment.

As Collins headed home he realized how muchhelping Michelle had actuallyhelped him too. It was like a voice in his head had woken up and there was a part of him coming forward that he hadn't been aware of in a long time. He felt alive for the first time in awhile. Who knew that an epiphany could happen in an alley?

Collins was suddenly caught by surprise when two hands wrapped around his neck and pulled him to the ground. A boot connected with his abdomen over and over Somebody had punched him in the face. Somebody elsereached for his wallet.

"Aw look at this…it's a drag queen! No wonder he was so keen to help that other one."

"Fag." Another one said as they pulled off his coat and searched through his pockets. Collins could only groan in response. Finally, after they had taken what they deemed valuable, the thugs ran. Collins was bleeding profusely and knew he wasn't going to last very long. He searched the ground for the picture of Angel that they had thrown on the ground. Her smiling face was the last thing he saw.

* * *

"Fuck, man, I got a cut from when I punched him." one of the thugs said as him and his friends went into a bar at 2 in the morning. They paid for their tab with Collins' money.

"Wow… Rich you better get that shit cut out, it looks deep." Another one of the thugs said.

"I think I will."

Aweek laterRich went back to the local clinic for his results of the tests he had taken. He didn't know that they were going to takean HIV testbut he was 100 certain that he was clean.

He opened the envelope, and fainted.

'HIV antibody test…………..Positive'

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A/n: I hope you guys got the ending? When one of the guys punched Collins they got a cut and Collins blood mixed with theirs and…well yeah. I think this chapter may have been too dramatic but whatever. read and review please! it keeps me writing! 


	5. The shot only two people heard

A/n: back to school tomorrow (. i had to write this inbetween school days and yesterday. so if it seems choppy and messed up then blame me and the school. oh and the fact that i don't have a beta! anywho this is probably my least favorite chapter. read and review por favor!

disclaimer: not mine.

Roger was the only one awake in the loft.Mark had gone to bed and he knew it was safe to come out of his bedroom. He padded silently into the living room where Mark's camera was set up and turned it on. He knew which reel it was: "Today 4 you: proof positive." He watched it, like normal and waited for Mimi's face to pop on the screen. This had become a nightly ritual for him, watching Mark's film and Mimi's goodbye. She had taped on it on the same film that Mark had used for 'Today 4 U'.Roger's traditionstarted well over two years ago andhe had done it every night since. After Collin's death he felt the need to watch it over and over again to remind him how life so suddenly turned to death and that he should be prepared.

Roger mostly felt guilty. Notbecause he so selfishly watched the video to take him back to when he was truly happy, but because two of his closest friends and the woman he was in love with had died before he did. Why should he be so lucky? He, after all, was the recovering heroin addict. He knew Mimi was going to go before him but Collins was a shock. Collins seemed to show no weaknesses and even when he had gotten mugged before nobody ever talked about it. Only Angel knew what really happened. Collins didn't even really show signs of having AIDS.

Even so, after Collins died it was like 'what now?' Roger and Mark realized that their friends were going left and right. Roger felt bad for Mark. Mark had made friends with the worst kind of people: heroin addicts, the HIV infected and people who were emotionally inept. Mark had sabotaged himself into making friends with people who he knew could and would hurt him the most.

Roger was so caught in his reverie that he didn't notice the film had ended and he was sitting in absolute darkness. After a cup of tea to help him sleep he climbed back in bed. His sheets, after numerous washings, still smelled like Mimi's perfume.

The next day Roger woke up and noticed that it was raining.Not even the kind of heavy rain that made being inside seem cozy. Itwas just enough rainto be wet and gloomy.He remembered how Mimi hated days like this 'que lastimo' she would say, and then go back to bed. Roger decided it would be a good cemetery day. He didn't tell Mark where he was going, he just put on his leather jacket and left.

At the flower shop he picked out three different kinds of flowers: A pink tulip for Angel, a hibiscus for Mimi and a tiger lily for Collins. Roger hated forget-me-nots and thought they weren't special enough for his friends. He got different flowers every time just to make sure each of his friends got variety. He never even told Mark that he did this. It was just his way of dealing with the pain. Why should everybody else see how much he was hurting? He could handle it on his own. As long as nobody else died and nothing else changed he would be fine.

At Angel's coffin there was a dead daisy in a vase. Roger took it out and replaced it with the tulip. When he got Mimi's there was a white rose lying on the ground. Roger put the hibiscus there instead. It started to rain harder. Finally at Collins there were all sorts of flowers. This was the first time since the funeral that he had been to Collins grave. His death was still a fresh wound even though it had happened over 2 years ago. Roger placed the tiger lily on the grave and left.

"Where have you been?" Mark asked nonchalantly from the couch as he flipped through an outdated edition of The Village Voice.

"Nowhere" Roger answered quickly as he took off hiscoat andgot a mug out of a cabinet and poured some coffee.

"Hey, I've been meaning to talk to you. Sit down." Mark said tensely as Roger sat down on the couch.

"About what?" Roger asked skeptically.

"I was thinking that…don't get mad…that maybe we should move out of the lower east side." Mark said as quickly as possible, while trying to sound casual.

"Oh yeah, great idea, because we can really afford an apartment in the upper west side" Roger said sarcastically. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"I said don't get mad! Listen, it's just, we've been living here for a long time and there are so many memories here…I just thought a change of scenery would be nice for a change! There's only me and you left here and it's too much space for the us." Mark was trying to be reasonable but Roger wasn't hearing it.

"What's wrong with memories?" Roger asked defensively, starting to get mad. Mark realized what he had said too late.

"Well…I…uh…dammit. Look you know what I mean. My parents are offering to buy us an apartment close to them in Scarsdale and I think we should consider it."

Roger had had enough of this. Sell the loft and move out? It was almost as barbaric as suggesting they move out of New York all together.

"I'm going to go get a beer." Roger said, putting on his jacket and leaving. As he shut the door he heard Mark yell 'have you even taken your AZT today?'

"I want another one." A drunk Roger slurred as the bartender of the Life Café passed him another Budweiser. Roger had been sitting at the barstool for about two hours now and was completely incompetent. He didn't realize that it wasn't even happy hour yet. He couldn't believe that Mark wanted to move. Sure, Roger had done his fair share of complaining about the dump but it had become his home. It was where so many things—bad and good, had happened. He had met so many people there. The loft was as much a part of his life as music or his friends were. Well, whatever, he was going to bond with this Budweiser and then head home to argue with Mark some more. He had to do something to convince him that they couldn't move.

Mark walked into The Life Café and saw a drunken figure in a leather jacket sleeping at the bar, obviously it wasRoger.

"Thanks for picking him up, he's been here for a long time and we're getting ready to close."

"Yeah, sorry about that. Rog, come on get up."

"Mark?"

"Yep, that's me. Let's get you home, you look terrible." Mark replied as he put Roger's arm over his shoulder and led him out of The Life Café.

As Mark and Roger hobbled back towards the lot they heard a loud gunshot that seemed to be coming from somewhere near the loft. Mark started walking faster and dragged Roger with him, who seemed to sober up a little bit.

"What was that?"

"I don't know. Let's just get home."

"Are you sure we should be calling it home anymore?" Roger asked sarcastically, remembering the fight they had earlier.

"Very fu—"Mark started saying, but then there was another gunshot.

Roger crumpled to the ground, his hand clutching his stomach. In the distance two men quickly ran in the other direction.

"I think I got shot."


	6. An insignificant toaster

Authors note: hi hellooo. This chapter may be shorter than the rest because I'm a little short on time today, well this weekend actually. But this is Joanne's chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own RENT…yup yup.

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"How much do you think this would sell for?"  
"Around 150"

"150! I paid twice as much for it when i bought it, brand new! The microphone has only been used once, it's in mint condition!"

"okay...200. But that's my final offer."

"Ummm...okay. And what about this gold necklace."

"Gold necklace? umm how about 50."

"Uh...if you add on 50 more dollars I'll give you two microphones and the necklace."

"Sold."

* * *

"On the account of State vs. Newcombe we find the defendant guilty."

Joanne sighed and heaved her briefcase off of the table as she watched her client being hauled off in handcuffs. Julie, her client, had been living on welfare checks for the past 10 months and couldn't afford to pay her child support. Joanne had thought that she would get some sympathy for thejurybut this timeshe was wrong. It seemed like nobody in Harlem could get any sympathy today. The daywas getting worse by the minute. When Joanne had woken up she had hit her head on the headboard. And then when she was getting dressed she spilledcoffee all over herself.As Joanne headed out to her car she saw a bum being kicked by some cops. When Joanne tried to open up her car door she realized that her keys were inside and that she had no way of getting to them.

"Hey, Mark… It's Joanne… Could you do me a favor? Can you uh…come pick me up?"

"Thanks for doing this, now I have to call the tow truck place so I can get my car and keys." Joanne rambled as she got into Mark's parent's car. Joanne noticed how tired Mark looked.

"Mark, you look like hell." She said as they drove off to the Upper East Side.

"Yeah, I know. It's my parents. They're putting all of this stress on me to move out and get a job."

"Well…you are going to be fifty next year. Is Buzzline looking for any new directors?" Joanne suggested. Not noticing the glare that Mark gave her.

As Joanne got out of Mark's car he gave her a weary smile and drove off.

"That boy just hasn't been the same lately." She said to herself as she went up the stairs.

There were fifty three messages on Joanne's machine and she knew who they were all from…

"Baby, please, come on pick up the phone! I'm nothing without you! Please! I'll…uh…I'll clean your apartment! Hell, I'll even clean mine!" beeeep

Joanne hated making Maureen go through this but she had to draw the line somewhere. Maureen was just so careless with things. Joanne couldn't believe that Maureen had blown up their 300 dollar gourmet toaster, signed by Emeril. Joanne had bought that for Maureen for a 15 year anniversary gift, and she had ruined it. It wasn't the first time that something like this had happened and Joanne was sick of spending her time and money on somebody who obviously didn't really care about her. Joanne moved out as soon as she could and hadn't spoken properly to Maureen since. Of course Mark was always trying to get them back together but Joanne refused. The machine screened another message.

"Hi Joanne, it's Benny. Listen, Maureen is miserable without you. I wouldn't normally do this but me and Mark are concerned about her. Just…go out to lunch or something with her. I'll pay." Beeeep

Joanne knew it was going to be a mistake but she picked up the phone and called Benny back.

--

"I really don't want to do this." Joanne said to herself as she fidgeted with her purse. She had agreed to come to lunch with Maureen, and only because Benny was paying. Or at least that's what Joanne wanted to convince herself. When Joanne looked up from the menu she saw Maureen walk into the small diner. She looked the same, but much older. She had gray streaks in her hair and wrinkles around her eyes, Joanne did too. Still, Joanne was stunned by Maureen's beauty.

"Hi." Maureen said curtly, as she sat down across the table from Joanne.

"Hi." Joanne replied, a bit puzzled.

"Look, I've been thinking, and I just wanted to talk business here. Okay?"

"Fine." Joanne replied, starting to wonder what Maureen was talking about.

"Now, that toaster…it cost like, $300, right?" Maureen asked, not looking at Joanne as she rummaged through her purse.

"Yeah…it cost about that much."

"Well, since you loved it so much, I thought I would pay you back for breaking it. That way I don't, like, owe you anything."

"You don't have to. It was a gift." Joanne said, finally realizing what Maureen wanted to do.

"NO! I mean…no, I want to. I guess I just realized that you and I weren't meant to be together and that we're better apart. So, here's your money." Maureen said, slapping the money on the table. And without another word she got up from the table and left.

Joanne stared at the money in shock. Where had Maureen gotten all of this?

It was true she had secretly hoped that she and Maureen would get back together, it was how things were with them: they would fight, then break up for awhile and then get back together again. This time, it seemed like Maureen had ended it, for good.

When Joanne got home there were no new messages for her. She had the $300 safe inside her coat pocket, what was she going to do with it?

For ten days Joanne did almost nothing. She went to work, came home and then slept. She couldn't stop thinking about Maureen and how final she sounded. Joanne felt like she was breaking up with Maureen for the first time even though it had to be the 100th. She decided to leave a message on Maureen's phone.

"Maureen, honeybear, pick up the phone please. I just wanted to say that I love you and I miss you and I'm sorry about everything that's happened. I don't want us to fight anymore. Please, just forgive me. I want to be with you forever and I promise not to fight with you even more, even if you make the toaster explode. Call me back, okay?" As Joanne put the phone back in the cradle she knew what she had to do.

"The crash happened at 10:00 at night. A 51 year old black female, about 5'8" was found with her car upside down on the Upper East Side. She had $300 in her pocket. It seems that she was hit by a drunk driver on the way towards the Lower East Side. May Joanne Jefferson rest in peace."

Maureen Johnson turned off the television set and screamed.

Authors note: read, review…por favor? I know the ending was kind of choppy but I made it that way on purpose. I'll explain why Maureen gave back the $300 next chapter.


	7. An envelope and a gun

Authors note: Hello all. I have nothing really to say except here's Benny's chapter. It was actually supposed to be Maureen's chapter next but I was feeling more Benny-ish. Italicis are thoughts or flashbacks..dur.

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Benny sat at a table in the Life Café. He could see his reflection in a mirror and grimaced. His once young and lively features were turning wrinkly and tired from endless nights of not sleeping. Everything seemed to be going downhill for him. His wife, after almost 20 years of marriage, was leaving him. His friends hadn't talked to him in forever and his business was going under. Benny knew what he had to do, he just didn't know if he was ready.

Finally Mark walked out of the cold into the café. He was looking almost as old as Benny. His blonde hair was starting to turn silver and his eyes seemed to lack the love for life he used to have. But, he was still the same Mark. The same warm presence surrounded him even after he had gotten out of the cold.Benny had invited him there to make amends, well sort of. Mark sat down across from Benny and started unraveling his scarf.

"Hi." Benny said, tentatively

"Hi" Mark replied, smiling slightly. "What'd you want to meet me here for?" he asked.

"I just wanted…well…okay" Benny pulled an envelope out of his coat pocket. "I just wanted you to have this."

"What is it?" Mark asked, taking the envelope.

"Just something I've been waiting to give somebody." Benny said, twisting his hands. "And I think you're the perfect person."

"Should I…open it now?" Mark asked awkwardly

"NO." Benny said hurriedly. "Open it tomorrow"

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah…you'll understand tomorrow." Benny said, and then he got up from the table and left.

When Benny got home Allison was packing more things to move into her new apartment. She was taking almost everything, as described in their prenuptial agreement. Benny didn't think they were actually going to get a divorce when he signed it all those years ago. And now she was milking it for all he was worth.

"I'll be sending Richard over later to pick up the rest of my things." Allison said coldly as she closed some boxes.

"Who's Richard?"

"My, well my lawyer."

"Sure. You're lawer."

"Whatever." Allison sneered.

"Hey that's mine!" Benny said as Allison started stuffing a picture and frame into a box.

"Oh yeah. Well the frame is mine. It cost $500. We bought it in France." Allison replied as she threw a Polaroid on the floor and walked out the door, slamming it behind her.

A very old picture of Mark, Benny and Roger smiled back up at a broken looking Benjamin Coffin the third. It was their first day in the loft and they had set up the camera so that they could remember that day. Benny remembered that being the happiest day of his life. He picked up the picture and tossed it out of a nearby window.

Benny waited until exactly the right time to do it. It had to be 2:00 in the morning. He turned on all of the lights in the now dull and dank apartment. He opened all of the windows even though it was 30 degrees outside. He also turned on the oven and opened up the refrigerator. Finally he went into the bedroom and closed the door.

"_Listen, Benny, I know they're your friends but there is a time for being loyal and a time for doing what's right. Maybe it's time you for you to decide which is most important at this point in your life." Mr. Grey said as he handed Benny an eviction Notice for Mark and Roger. "Either they pay, or they get evicted. There is no letting this go or making negotiations. It's one or the other."_

"_I don't know, Mr. Grey. They're my best friends." Benny said nervously._

"_Benny…if you want to become anything in this world you're going to have to let your friendships go. Besides, if you want to marry my daughter you WILL do this." Mr. Grey added, with emphasis._

"_Okay... I'll do it."_

Benny took the gun out of the bedside table and loaded the magazine. Only one bullet was needed.

"_Benny…how could you?" Allison asked, tearfully._

"_For the last time…NOTHING happened! I love you, not her!"_

"_Did she give you AIDS too?"_

"_No… nothing happened."_

"_I don't believe you. This better be the last time .If you ever see her or that…that trash again we're getting a divorce!"_

"_I'm sorry."_

Tears rolled down Benny's face as he cocked the gun, his hand shaking.

"_We're sorry, Benny, we just don't think that Cyberarts is producing the way it used to."_

"_Well I know it's been a little slow but maybe if we just got another loan."_

_  
"We've given you plenty of loans. We just can't do this anymore. This company is already in enough debt as it is."_

_"I guess we can't win them all__." Benny said, trying to laugh off his anguish._

Benny took the gun and put it in his mouth. He closed his eyes.

"_Benny, look at our new apartment!" Mark exclaimed._

"_Dude…can you imagine all the opportunity we have now that we're in New York City?" Roger asked as he shoved some boxes aside joined his friends._

"_These are going to be the best years of our lives." Benny said. The apartment wasn't exactly perfect or clean. But it was huge, and he was with his friends._

"_You'll see…this is going to be the best time of our lives."_

Benny pulled the trigger.

Somewhere else in New York City Mark Cohen opened up the envelope that his old best friend gave him and inside was a check for $50,000.

_Mark,_

_By the time you read this, I'll probably be dead. Here is my retirement check. You'll probably put more use to it then I would have. I've done everything in my life that is worthwhile and now it's time for me to end it. If I don't then most of my life will have been regrets I know that the past has torn our friendship apart, but I still miss all of the good times we had. It hurt me so much to have to let you guys go when I married Allison, but I made my decisions and I've had to live with them. I'm trying to keep the good memories of you, me, Roger and Collins in my heart. Even when I'm gone know that I'll be looking down at you from Heaven. I'm not trying to sound sappy or anything, I know you hate that, but I just wanted you to know that I love you, Mark, you're my best friend. Thank you for everything,_

_Benny_

a/n: I hope you guys all liked it. I hope I did Benny justice he's one of my favorite characters, I didn't really see him as a villain.


	8. A broken heart's damage

Hello all…happy Saturday…only one more chapter after this and then the story is done. A prequel could happen though, somehow. Anyway, here's Maureen's chapter. I hope I did okay portraying her character, I don't think I'm very good at it.

Disclaimer: not mine

Mark Cohen picked up a newspaper off of the kitchen table and scanned the front few pages, there was nothing there. Flipping to the second page on the bottom left-hand corner there was a picture and sign saying "MISSING". Mark would have usually ignored this ad, seeing as there were a million of them in the mail, newspaper and pretty much all over New York City, but something about this one caught his eye. "MISSING: MAUREEN JOHNSON, AGE: 55, SEX: F, WEIGHT: 130 POUNDS, HEIGHT: 5'8", LAST SEEN AT: "MOJO PERFORMING ARTS STUDIO, IF YOU HAVE ANY INFORMATION PLEASE CONTACT MAYA FONTAINE…

Mark put down the newspaper and in shock, called this girl named Maya.

Maureen Johnson smiled at a crowd of hopelessly pathetic looking young performing artists. She had never had a job like this before and was pretty nervous about it. Mark had given her the money to start off her own "performing arts class" (she had no idea where he had gotten the money to do it. Or the time to come up with the idea.) But still, she needed the money, and after Benny's suicide it wasn't like the emptylot was good for anything else anyway.

Maureen thought of Benny and felt a pang in her chest. He had committed suicide only a few years after Joanne had died, and she had died not long after the deaths of Roger and Collins, and although Mimi and Angel had died so long ago, it was still like a fresh wound in Maureen's heart. Maureen shook her head, trying to get the thoughts out of her mind so she could focus on what was supposed to 'get her back on her feet', as Mark had put it.

"Okay, um I've never done this before, so why don't we all introduce ourselves!" Maureen said, looking around at the 'too-artsy-for-thou' students.

"Well, I'm Maya, as in, like…Maya Angelou, or you know, whatever" a pale blonde hair blue eyed girl said as she took a puff of a Marlboro. Then she motioned to some of the other students, "and this is Chad, Frida and Razzie, but we all call him Razzle Dazzle. His art is so tight, it's like…when you see his art, it's like you're staring right into your soul, yeah." She said indifferently as Maureen stared, puzzled. She wondered what the kids were smoking these days.

"Uhhh...Okay. Let's get started. How many of you have performed on a stage before?" Maureen asked. Nobody raised their hands.

"We have a lot of work to do." she said more to herself than to anybody else.

----------------------

A few months later, Maureen's class was thriving. She had signed up 10 more students, and a few were starting to perform professionally, asking her to be their manager. On the outside, Maureen seemed to be happy but on the inside she was falling apart as images of all of her dead friends filled her mind. It wasn't her student's fault that they reminded her so much of her friends and her past, but they were making her think of things she hadn't thought about in a long time. She was also having trouble sleeping and she started talking to herself.Still, she pushed that aside and tried to live as best she could

"I swear, Mark, these kids have talent. They almost match up to me!" Maureen said as she visited Mark one day at his parent's house

"That's great, have you started dating again?" Mark asked nonchalantly.

"No way, I'm too busy." Maureen said, her mood broken as she thought about Joanne.

"Sorry, I was just thinking that since you were starting to work and cleaning up after yourself you might, you know, have a job." Mark offered, trying not to sound offensive and obviously failing.

"Well Mark, you weren't thinking at all, because you of all people should know what I've—we've been through over the past, like, 15 years, or something. So shut up and forget it, I'm never going to date again. Maybe you should stop worrying about me and start trying to get a date, becuase you could sure use one, you look terrible!" She said as she stormed out of Mark's house. When she reached her apartment she slammed the door and dropped to the floor. She didn't want the tears to come, but she couldn't hide the fact that she was a mess. After bawling her eyes out for a good fifteen minutes she curled up on her floor and went to sleep.

Maureen woke up on her floor and arched her back as she tried to work out the kinks. She stared at her toaster and, in sudden anger, threw it at the wall. It had made her think of Joanne.

"Okay, Maya, run over it one last time." Maureen said tiredly as she sipped a mug of coffee and popped some aspirin. It was the night before Maya's big performance and Maureen wanted to make sure it was perfect.

"Okay…here goes: Bagel and a hotdog, by Maya Fontaine.

"Over the hills and through the woods to the bagel shop. Dirty boy hands me bagel and I smear butter on the orifice filled onion bread. Cream cheese soon follows. Salty goodness inside my hot, sticky mouth. My nimble fingers tear away at the bread and find their way to the spicy onions. Mmmm bagel. Now, for lunch, we have the elongated, engorged hotdog. Hot meat and soft bun. Sweet tangy mustard and ooey gooey ketchup in my waiting mouth. The world is my hotdog, my bagel. I love my New York City meals. Now, for dinner: pizza" Maya finished as the rest of the students clapped. Maureen rubbed her eyes with her fingers.

"It's good Maya, except for two things: Okay, first of all, what is it about? NOTHING! Where's the political meaning!You just recited a sonnet to me about what you have eaten, and that's it, and secondly, it sounds like bad porn. I don't want to hear the word orifice or engorged again. Now, if you excuse me, it's 2:00 in the morning and I'm tired, and since you have failed to turn your piece of shit poem into a masterpiece, I am going to stop wasting my time and go to bed. Goodnight!" Maureen yelled as she stormed out of the performance space and made her way, angrily, to her car.

"I didn't think it sounded like porn, did you think it sounded like porn?" Maya said, as she sat back down, puzzled.

Maureen sat in her car and slammed the door. She had to get out of here. Everything was just too much. She was sick of her students and their stupid performing art pieces, she was sick of Mark and his cliche advice, she was sick of drinking bad coffee and she was sick of being in New York City. She had to go, so she drove away.

As she was driving it seemed like all of her friend's voices filled her mind.

Angel was saying "don't give up chica, be strong."

Mimi was saying "Come on, babe, you can do it."

Collins was saying "Maureen, you can do better, come on, what's wrong with you?"

Roger was saying "Shut up, Maureen, and do something with your life."

And Joanne wasn't saying anything, she was just in Maureen's mind, smiling and encouraging her to do whatever she had to do.

"It's just too much." She said as she wiped the tears from her face. Joanne was sitting next to her in the car.

"How you doing, honeybear?" Joanne asked as she stroked Maureen's hair.

"Not too good." Maureen admitted.

"It's okay sweetie, you can come home soon. I know you miss us." Joanne said

"Really? Do you guys miss me up there?" Maureen asked.

"Of course we do, well except Roger." Joanne laughed.

"When do I get to be with you guys?"

"Just go to sleep."

"Okay."

Mark Cohen shot up in bed; he knew, suddenly, he wasn't going to be seeing Maureen ever again, and that he really was alone now.

The cops found a car on the side of the road. There seemed to be nothing wrong with the woman inside, it wasn't a car crash. She was sitting in the drivers seat as peaceful as an angel. She didn't die of a heart attack, a stroke or a head abrazion. There was no logical explanation for what had happened.

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i hope you guys got the point i was trying to make: she went crazy... yeah so read/review please! it keeps me going!


	9. A place that's home

I was astounded by the response of the last chapter! (more than 3 reviews! Woot woot! Haha) no but really, I was. Thank you so much to everybody who has reviewed and put up with my terrible spelling. Even those sneaky guys who have me on their alert list but haven't reviewed, thanks so much! Here is the last chapter… Mark's. it has been written out of order on purpose. If you compare it to Titanic I kill you. Even though that's where I got the ending from. I might do a prequel, about each one of their births. Tell me what you think: YES OR NO

Disclaimer: NOT mine

"Dude…that letter was deep." Chuck said, as he put the letter back down on the table. The three kids looked around at the apartment again it seemed to be eerie, almost haunted. The items leaving only remnants of people that used to laugh, breathe, make noise. They didn't notice two Latino's dancing on the table, the sad guitarist in the corner, two women bickering by the window, the philosopher sipping his Stoli or the man who gave it all away looking solemnly at what he never had. They packed up their stuff and left the apartment.

He knew it was the beginning of the end when he woke up in the Nursing Home and his arm was numb. He had researched the causes of a Heart Attack, seeing as his father had died of one, but he never thought it would happen to him. Still, the numbness of the arm told him something wasn't right. When he got up to go tell one of the nurses, he collapsed on the floor. He was still conscious when the nurses came to give him breakfast and his meds. They ran over to him and in a blur of movements he was in an ambulance. The doctors said it was a miracle that he was still alive.

When he had returned to the Nursing Home he was on high surveillance. The nurses knew that he didn't have long to live. He had to wait until exactly the right hour to leave. It was 2:00 in the morning when he put on his jacket and scarf, gathered what he needed and headed towards his journey. The walk to the bus station wasn't long, and the bus ride wasn't long either. It was finding the place that was hard. He had trouble remembering which one it was.

When he had finally found it he felt a rush of memories surround him. It was almost too much. Still, he climbed up the stairs to the abandoned building and started working. There was so much to do and so little time.

He waited a week to go back to the apartment. He could barely walk after living on the streets for a week but he had to go back or it wouldn't be right. When he turned the corner he saw three kids exiting his building. They looked solemn as they passed him. Then they looked back, almost as if they recognized him, but they shook their heads and continued walking. He slowly climbed the stairs to the apartment one last time and opened the door.

Mimi had noticed him first. She grabbed his scarf and dragged him into the apartment playfully. She looked vibrant and beautiful. There was music in the background and she started dancing with Angel, who was pouring him a drink. Collins came up to him and gave him a hearty handshake as he took off his jacket. Maureen noticed him next. She started jumping up and down and enveloped him in a bear hug that almost knocked the wind out of him. Joanne looked over and gave an enthusiastic wave. Benny was sitting at the window, looking out at the rest of New York City. He smiled at him coolly and then looked back out. Roger looked up last; he set his guitar down at the table and walked over to him lazily. When he finally reached him they gave each other brother hugs, neither admitting that they were about to cry.

"Welcome home, Mark. We've been waiting for you."


End file.
